


Big and Black and Shiny (yes, dick jokes)

by misha_collins_butt



Series: I Knew I Loved You [7]
Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Destiel Fluff, Fluff, Impala kissing, Implied Sabriel, M/M, Oops, SO SORRY, Smut, angel!cas - Freeform, destiel smut, do people even read these?, human!Sam, human!dean, kind of ooc, my finger slipped, on your face there, partial pwp, wing!kink, you've got a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 01:33:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4160583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_collins_butt/pseuds/misha_collins_butt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Those wings are bigger than Dean expected, and Cas' skin feels nice against his own. How could it get any better than this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big and Black and Shiny (yes, dick jokes)

**Author's Note:**

> I tried my very hardest to convert the measurements into American standard measurements, so please don't murder me if they're wrong (though I'm almost entirely certain that 9 metres is about thirty feet). Also, I currently don't have a beta, so all mistakes are mine.  
> AND  
> I apologise, in advance, for this fic being so fucking terrible. I kind of half-assed it because I'm working on a much longer fic [with chapters] and I didn't want all of you to think I was dead so I just quickly typed this one up. Again, sorry for this train wreck, I just needed to post something.

"Dean. I can't explain it. You wouldn't understand - just...just pull over _please_ ," Cas begs and Dean glances over at him, brows furrowed ever so slightly, but Cas is busy staring down at his empty palms resting in his lap, eyes unresponsive and lips parted. He won't meet Dean's gaze but Dean can't stand the ashen look on his angel's face so he nods, still uncomprehending.

Dean presses out a long, slow breath and pulls over to the shoulder of the otherwise empty stretch of highway, vast and desolate, surrounded by nothing but fields of unrelenting metre high grass and lines of jade leafed trees.

As soon as he's in park, Cas scampers out of the car and Dean jumps out after him, peeking over the roof of the Impala with parted lips and watching as Cas sprints to the relative centre of the field he's parked next to.

Cas stumbles a few times and when he reaches the centre, he stands there, chest heaving, hands gripping at the top of his back as far as he can reach, body bending and twisting and grunts forcing themselves from his lips, groans and pained sounds Dean can hear from across the field.

Cas makes an especially pained expression, teeth gritting and lips pulling back as his eyebrows pull in and up and his eyes roll up to the sky...and then he collapses, and Dean's eyes go wide. He sets his jaw and whips away from the Impala, actually jumping over the hood so he can get to his angel faster, then sprinting through the dry grass, somehow managing to avoid stumbling over rocks and lumps of dirt.

"Dean, don't!" Cas' voice is muffled by the dirt and Dean panics further.

"Cas!"

"Dean! Stand back!" Cas commands more fervently this time, his voice still covered by cloth and mud.

But Dean doesn't listen, the words hitting his ears but not processing correctly.

He makes it about halfway to Cas before the earth tremours violently and a blinding white light emanates from Castiel's slumped form.

Dean starts forward again, desperate fear pillaging his face, watching as the small orb of white grows slowly, shaking with the earth, but he skids to another stop when the light seems to reach it's breaking point and it explodes over the field, pushing grass down flat into the earth and even knocking down several trees. Dean goes down with them, the wave of light a ring pushing outward quickly, like a wave rushing to shore, accompanied by an ear splitting screech, and if Dean hadn't already been crouching, he would have gone down a lot harder.

He lies there, terrified eyes wide and shocked lips parted, propped up on his elbows, staring at the scene in front of him as his ears ring in response to the noise.

The light is gone, nothing left but a hunched form in the middle of the field, breathing heavily. The trees lean against eachother and the grass remains flat in some places, and Dean doesn't understand why until he spots them.

Like black curtains draping themselves across the angel's back and over the exasperated grass, wings have manifested themselves, _Cas'_ wings - each sprouting from the top of Cas' back and falling delicately over his arms and shoulders, then stretching out across the field.

Dean gulps, jaw tightening and he lifts himself to a standing position. He watches Cas, afraid and confused and shocked and everything that falls into any of those categories. He takes a tentative step forward, hand reaching out, and Cas shifts.

Dean stops dead in his tracks and recoils his arm, frightened by the unknown, per usual.

Cas shifts again, and this time he begins to rise, his torso first, still heaving in gulps of air, his head continuing to hang from his neck, and then his legs unfold beneath him and he pushes up off the ground, his fingertips staying there for a long time as he seems to regain his focus. His hands finally leave the soil and he unfolds very slowly, his body rolling up and, when he's standing at full height, he lifts his head and his eyes twitch slowly up to Dean, who still stands several feet back, probably with the most horrified look crossing his face.

Cas swallows and his lips part as he stares across the grass at Dean and they say nothing. Cas seems rather oblivious to the fact that he's sprouted wings but Dean knows better, knows the angel isn't nearly as arrogant as he makes himself out to be.

Dean takes another step forward and when he hears the small 'Dean?' that escapes Cas' lips he lets out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. 

He approaches slowly, as if Cas is a feral animal, ready to attack at any time, and never breaks eye contact, not even to glance at what he really wants to see - the wings. When he reaches Cas though, he shakes his head and tears his gaze from Cas' slightly frightened one and takes a good, long gander at the feathers.

The wings seem to stretch out on their own suddenly and Dean stares in awe at the magnificence of them - they stand six feet in the air, from where they meet Cas' back to the tip of the arch, and span at least 30 feet across, from tip to tip, and they're a glimmering ebony black, shimmers of silver glinting in the glowing sandy white of the moon that dangles precariously behind them.

Dean's breath has been knocked from his lungs and Cas only stares at him, unsure of Dean's reaction.

"Jesus fuck. Cas," he breathes and instinctually reaches up to run his hands through a particularly messy clump of feathers. The wing folds back in tandem with Cas taking in a sharp breath.

Dean furrows his brows and his eyes travel back to Cas', only to find that there is a rather alarmed look in Cas's eyes, but that his pupils have suddenly dilated.

"Cas?"

"Dean...when...when I said you wouldn't understand...I meant..." He fumbles with his words for a short moment before he seems to give up on finding a way to put whatever he's trying to say delicately, and slumps, his gaze dropping to the grass and his wings drooping and curling forward protectively, creating a wonderful waterfall of shining feathers across Cas' shoulders. "Dean, my wings...are very sensitive right now...they haven't been groomed in a while and they've been itching constantly, but I've tried to ignore it. Obviously that was a bad decision, as after a certain period of time not being taken care of, they manifest themselves to make it more obvious to the angel that they need to be fixed. They kind of almost have a mind of their own, in a way."

Dean lets out a clipped breath and shakes his head again.

"I could do it for you," Dean offers, not even thinking twice. Cas is his friend and he'll do anything he can to touch those wings just once. He feels a warmth fluttering up from his stomach and, for the millionth time, pushes down the urge to kiss Cas. It's weird. He's not supposed to want to do that. Cas is his best friend. He internally castigates his inability to keep control of his feelings.

"Dean--"

"Seriously. I wouldn't mind."

"Dean, please don't--"

"Cas--"

"No! Dean!" Cas nearly screams this and Dean stumbles back at the outburst, cursing his huge mouth. He must have crossed a line he was oblivious to and now Cas is angry and, shit, this is not going the way he wants it to. "Would you shut the _hell_  up for _five minutes_  and _listen_!"

Dean doesn't respond, nodding dumbly.

"Dean. My wings are not _things_ to simply be toyed with by humans, and cleaning them is a very serious, very...intimate process. You say you'll do it but I don't think you realise that, by saying you'll do it, you're agreeing to...possibly becoming very uncomfortable...amongst other things," Cas explains, narrowed blue eyes never leaving Dean's for a second, brows pulled in and down.

And realisation dawns.

"By sensitive--" he tries and Cas cuts him off, eyes dropping again, already seeming to know where his train of thought is leading.

"By sensitive, I mean...touching them could...well...uh..." Cas lets out a breathy laugh and meets Dean's searching eyes, blue irises deep as the midnight sky peeking up from beneath leaden lids. "Dean, it could bring me to orgasm."

Dean's jaw falls open and his eyes go wide as all fuck. Touching Cas' wings...could make him orgasm? 

Dear lord, that is the hottest thing Dean's ever fucking heard. He bites his lip, then opens his mouth to speak, taking in a contemplative breath.

"I hear you, Cas...and I understand...and..." He raises his eyebrows, nodding his head very slowly. "And I think...my offer still stands." He doesn't look Cas in the eyes for a while, standing very still and staring down at Cas' work shoe clad feet.

"Dean...I..." Cas starts and Dean finally glances up, lips tight but parted, eyes uncertain. "Please tell me you're not mocking me."

"Cas, I wouldn't--"

"Tell me you truly want to do this, that you are completely okay with it."

"Cas--"

"Dean! Promise me," Cas' eyes are pleading as he stares Dean down, and Dean gets lost in the depths of them, forgetting to answer.

He only shakes his head, steps forward, effectively closing the gap between them, his fingers tangling in the hair at the top of Cas' neck and his other hand finding Cas' stubbled cheek. He doesn't hesitate as he leans forward, lips finding Cas' in a chaste kiss. And then another, this one still gentle but less nervous, and growing deeper by the second. It starts with Dean's lips simply pressing against Cas' and then they start to move together, parting and sliding together, fitting perfectly with eachother, Dean's bottom lip catching Castiel's in a caress. Cas's hands finally lift and Dean feels them press into either side of his head, palms cupping his jaw, fingers hooked behind either ear, and thumbs stroking back and forth over his cheeks.

He can't even scold himself for doing this because, fuck, it just feels so indescribably incredible.

Dean just hopes this is enough to prove that he doesn't care what happens so long as Cas' wings get better and so long as Dean is the one to make them better.

They break apart and Dean leaves his forehead sticking to Cas', eyes fluttering downward, breaths puffing out hard.

"That answer your question?" Dean breathes and adds a final soft peck to Cas' lips. Just for good measure. All in the name of getting him to understand.

"Yes," Cas answers simply, thumbs still sliding across Dean's cheekbones. "God, yes."

"Good. Let's...ah, head back to...the..." He trails off as he glances sidelong at the wings and realises they're far too gigantic to fit inside the Impala. "Shit... nevermind...um...Cas? If you zap us back, will you be able to get Baby to the bunker, too?"

"Of course," Cas's brows crease together and he tilts his head as if what Dean just asked of him is the most simple thing in the entire world...and, Dean realises as he takes another look at those damn wings, it kind of actually is right now.

He's still so utterly amazed, so stricken by their beauty and shape and colour and sheer fucking size. He entirely cannot bring himself to unglue his eyes from them at the moment, so when Cas waves a hand in front of his eyes and tugs at his jacket sleeve, he startles and raises his eyebrows at Cas expectantly.

"Dean. The Impala? I need to touch it in order to get it...back to the bunker," Cas says this slowly as if Dean is eight and doesn't understand something simple that Cas' has grown tired of trying to explain.

"Right, yeah. No, yeah, let's, uh...sorry, yeah, let's go."

He follows behind Cas, watching the feathers rustle and sway as Cas walks, a bit unsteady, and Dean guesses the wings in a corporeal plane add some weight. His eyes trail upward to the arches, more angular now that the wings are folded in, and the oily blue black shines rainbow in the sodium of the moonlight, dripping low over the trees. The ones closer to Cas' back, the ones that look like downy feathers from a pillow, are a deeper, onyx black, less shiny, more matte taupe, but still have a slight blue sheen to them, a blue that's reflected by the angel's eyes, and a black-brown that nears the colour of his hair. The silver speckles are repeated, sprinkled intricately through the backs of the wings almost as much as the fronts and Dean finds himself trying to count the sparkles he catches as the glow of the grey crater beats mercilessly down on them.

They make it to the car without incident, excepting the point at which Cas stops in front of the car but Dean's view was throughly blocked so he didn't realise they had arrived and he was walking a little too closely behind Cas and ended up slamming into his back. Cas cringed slightly, his feathers swatting backward to get rid of the threat, but he pulled himself together and nobody got seriously injured. After that, Dean is more careful, watches every movement he makes as he walks around the wings, which still swell out about four feet from Cas' body on either side.

Dean doesn't blame him. Fifteen feet of feathers each is a lot to fold up. He stands in front of Cas, brows pulling down and eyes doing a once over before he leans back against the Impala, and grabs Cas' tie, pulling him forward gently. 

Their lips meet in a soft kiss, Cas' hand gripping the edge of the trunk, Dean's free arm sliding around his waist, and Cas seems to realise what he's supposed to do, and snaps his fingers.

In a heartbeat, they're standing outside the bunker, still attached by the lips, and as soon as Cas' hands are free, he loops his arms around Dean's neck and pushes deeper into the kiss, tongue prodding at Dean's lips.

Dean lets him in and chuckles at Cas' eagerness. But his laugh cuts off into a small gasping kind of moan when Cas rolls his hips forward into Dean's and Dean is left completely breathless for the second time that night. He didn't even know angels could get erections.

No...no, scratch that. He did. He remembers...the pizza man. That's a good memory. Dean remembers having to suppress the urge, even then, to just get up and walk over and take care of that problem _for_  Cas.

He wishes he had. The wings wouldn't be a problem right now. Speak of the devil. Dean feels them fall forward and circle the both of them, encasing Dean in a tight blanket of shining feathers. He chuckles again and Cas pulls back.

"I would hold you down with them but they hurt too much," Cas whispers and Dean shivers at the implications of that sentence. Hold him down. Cas wants to hold him down with his wings and kiss him harder than Dean cares to imagine. But then the other implications hit him as well and he spins the around so Cas' back is to the Impala, but not leaning against it.

Dean searches those eyes for a moment and smiles sympathetically.

"Alright, angel," Cas seems to shudder at the nickname, "let's go take care of your pretty wings."

They're careful attempting to get through the door to the bunker, Dean trying his hardest to help Cas fold his wings in tightly enough to slip through the narrow opening, but in the end, Cas just snaps them in. They appear in the library with a ruffle of wings, and- shit. Sam.

He looks up, and Dean is completely sure all that the younger man was expecting to see is Cas and Dean after hearing the sound Cas usually emits when he arrives somewhere, but instead, Sam gets an eyeful of giant black feathers, spreading and stiffening in fear.

His jaw drops to the table and his pen with it, making a small clacking sound as it hits the wood, and his eyes go wide as the fucking moon. He seems to want to say something, but Dean rushes Cas out of the room quickly enough that if he ever coagulates a sentence, they never hear it.

Dean looks back at Sam with a slight amount of panic, not wanting his younger brother to be scarred, and smiles apologetically when he catches the shocked and pointed tilt of Sam's head.

"Sorry we're back so late, Sammy. Got caught up...with...uh..." Dean purses his lips, not quite sure how to end that sentence, and entirely too excited to touch those wings to even care about finishing it. He just stares at Sam for a moment longer, lips sealed, before rushing through the door.

Cas is already waiting beside Dean's doorway and the beginning of a question makes its way through Cas' lips - "What are we going t--" - before Dean yanks him into the room and slams the door, knowing Cas probably bumped his wings on the doorframe and regretting pulling him in so forcefully like that.

His fear is confirmed when he searches Cas' face and finds implicit pain in the widening of his eyes and the set of his jaw and hears it in the tight grunt the angel releases.

"Sorry, sorry!" Dean grips his shoulder with one hand and slides the other back over Cas' face. Cas' hand clutches Dean's elbow tightly and he nods, closing his eyes and hanging on to Dean for a long time. Dean realises about halfway through that at some point Cas stopped gripping him for the support and started doing it just to have an excuse to touch Dean. "I'm sorry," Dean repeats, more softly this time, bringing their foreheads together, fingers still tracing backward across the angel's temple. "Didn't mean to do that, Cas. I'm sorry. I was just a little scared about how freaked out Sam seemed. I'm so sorry."

"I'm fine, Dean. Really," his voice seems more gravelly than usual, and Dean doesn't know how the hell that's possible but he does know he likes it.

"Why don't you mojo that jacket and shirt off and sit down on the bed. I'm gonna go find a shirt for you for when this is done and those wings aren't in the way anymore," Dean smirks. "Just so you aren't walking around the bunker half naked."

"Didn't seem to... _ungh_...bother you before," Cas retorts, trying to tease back and Dean appreciates the effort, but that grunt was painful just to listen to and Dean needs to get going with this. Now.

He walks across the room to his dresser and rifles through t-shirts in the top drawer and finds a Lynyrd Skynyrd one he hasn't worn in a while. It's soft between his fingers, and in surprising shape considering the entire three years it's probably been sitting at the bottom of that pile for.

"I wish I could stop myself from giving you the dignity of a response to that, but I'm a little too sarcastic to let that one slip," Dean mumbles and throws the shirt across his shoulder before closing the drawer and turning back toward his angel, and slinking over, swinging his hips unconsciously. "And the only reason it didn't bother me before, is because it did." He brushes his fingers back through Cas' black-brown hair in a sort of adoring gesture and smiles softly at the angel's confusion. "I'm just good at hiding shit from people. You have no idea what kind of ideas I got when you would walk into the kitchen without a shirt on."

"And what kind of ideas did you get, Dean," Cas taunts, eyes never breaking away from Dean's, and a knowing smile creeps up over his lips. Little shit.

"Bad ones. Really, really..." Dean takes a long breath in, "very bad ideas. Nasty ones. Ones you shouldn't have about your best friend," Dean whispers and Cas' wings flutter forward and pull Dean down into Cas' lap. The feathers engulf them completely and near darkness surrounds them, only tiny slivers of light piercing through small openings in the veil of black. Dean gulps and dips his head, lips brushing Cas', dick twitching uncomfortably in his jeans. "Gettin' some right now."

Cas watches him with hooded eyes for a second before he closes the infinitesimal gap between them and their faces are connected in a short press of lips.

"Maybe when my wings aren't making me want to rip them off my back we can experiment with some of those," Cas whispers and Dean's not entirely sure what's gotten into his angel, but, Jesus Christ, is it hotter than hell. Ha.

"Oh, fuck yes," Dean murmurs, landing one last kiss against Cas' lips and then he's tugging at the damn trench coat.

"Sorry, I forgot," Cas mutters and snaps the clothing away, leaving nothing but his tented black work slacks. He unravels his wings from around Dean's body, which the hunter can tell is a slightly painful process, and spreads them as far as he can without knocking everything over.

"You forget 'cause you got caught up staring at my sweet ass, angel?" Dean teases, ruffling Cas' hair and laughing at the near bitchface Cas gives him in return. "Just sayin'. Next time I turn around, you got somethin' to check out." He reaches out without trepidation at first and then his hand recoils when he realises he's not a clue what he's doing. "So...do I just--"

"Just...umclump and untangle, and then remove the ones that are loose, and straighten the ones that are crooked..." Cas pauses, looks as though he's contemplating, and then he adds rather nervously, "and...the most sensitive ones are at the base, where they meet my back. The very tips are pretty sensitive too but everything in between is only a kind of...duller...sensitivity."

Dean nods, understanding, and reaches out again. The moment his fingers slide through the feathers, he gasps in shock, and in sync with Cas' own, more pained gasp. It's like his hand is colliding with the softest of rabbit fur, or some Egyptian cotton sheets laced with silk. They feel as beautiful as they look and Dean can't help but back off of Cas' lap and brush the other hand through them too.

"My God..." He breathes, unsure whether Cas can hear him or not and entirely unable to care. "They're like...Jesus, Cas, they're beautiful."

Cas doesn't respond but Dean begins the arduous process of untangling the feathers and taking out the ones that are no longer useful. Dean starts a little outward from the base of the wings and immediately brushes his fingers through the clump he reached out to touch the first time, and then moves on to the less tangled feathers, working in random places, his hands twirling and dancing through feather upon shining feather, and at some point, Cas' strangled gasps turn into soft moans.

Dean makes it to the tip of the left wing and rubs the end of the last feather between his fingers, as if inspecting a fabric, and smirks at the particularly languid groan that earns him.

He walks back across the length of the wing and settles back into Cas' lap for a moment, lifting the angel's face to his.

"Your wings are unbelievable," Dean rasps, lips barely touching Castiel's as he speaks. "They're fucking incredible Cas." He turns his head over his shoulder and his eyes roll over the floor, surveying the mess of useless feathers and grinning broadly. "Wish you'd told me earlier. Would've gladly helped. I'm especially enjoying those little noises you're makin'."

The blush that spreads up over Cas' cheeks from his bare chest is probably the most adorable thing Dean's ever experienced and Cas only continues to stare at him with sated, hooded eyes, juno blue irises mere rings around the charcoal black depths of his blown pupils.

"I want you to touch me, Dean," Cas seems to barely get this out, voice crackling and crumbling and Dean nods. He nods so slowly and he wants to so badly.

"I have to finish the other one first, okay? Can you wait till then?" Dean asks gently and Cas takes a shaking breath in, then nods slowly and pushes it out. "Okay."

Dean sets off on the other wing, hands twisting and weaving the same way as he did with the other wing, ever-gentle with the clumps and more tangled areas, knowing how much more they must hurt to brush through.

He picks out the loose feathers almost expertly and simply runs his hands freely through patches of feather that don't seem to need grooming, knowing it'll add an immeasurable amount of pleasure to the pain of unclumping the other areas. He listens to the increasing loudness of each moan and his heart stumbles, skips a beat, when he realises that he's the reason this Angel of the Lord, this giant celestial being, this Warrior of Heaven is falling apart at the seams, and it falters when he realises Cas is unraveling just for him, and only for him, that Castiel, Angel of Thursday, strong enough to pull a human out of hell and to perpetuate the Winchesters' lives - because that's a big fuckin' deal, ask anyone - has broken his hard, innocent outer shell just for Dean. And then his heart completely gives out, stops dead, when he realises he's the only one who gets to do this to Cas, he's the one Cas is allowing into this obviously very private situation and he's the only one who's ever touched Cas this way. It wasn't said, but it was implied, and that fact makes Dean pause to catch his breath.

He closes his eyes and huffs, actually panting, actually, legitimately unable to breathe, the facts are so intimidating, so completely insane, so absolutely mind-boggling, and Dean doesn't know what to do with them.

He decides to lock these facts away in the most forward chamber of his brain, decides to save them for moments when he feels worthless.

He finishes with the same rub of fingers over the tip of the last feather and when he glances over at his angel, he finds Cas' form curled in and trembling against his legs, fingers locked together behind his head, his breathing very clearly uneven.

"Cas?"

"Dean, please," Cas' voice is muffled and Dean starts the walk back over at the same time that Cas begins folding his wings back in. He reaches Cas and crouches in front of him, tilting his head to catch the angel's eyes.

They're wild and wide, and his lips wobble as he lifts his head and stares back at Dean. His breaths come out in short, cut off grunts and his fingers seem stiff as he untangles them from the back of his head. They lift to Dean's face, tremours persistent, and stroke back through Dean's hair.

The two men watch eachother, lips parted, faces so close together, and then Cas's hand tangles in the short blonde behind Dean's head and he pulls him in, and their lips meet in a desperate kiss. Tongues curl around eachother, lips slide against lips, teeth nip at skin.

Dean crawls up into Cas' lap again and lowers Cas back onto the mattress. Cas holds Dean's face at an angle with one hand so their mouths fit together more easily, and his other one rests against Dean's chest. The human's one hand grips Cas' waist and the other finds the wrist pressing into his chest and pulls it away, letting it land on the bed beside Cas, arm bent upward so his fingers curl beside Cas' hair. Dean's own fingers slide up over Cas' elbow and upward over his forearm, and then across Cas's palm, reaching their destination and slotting between Cas' fingers. They twine together and Cas lets out a very happy kind of noise that makes Dean smile into their kiss.

They continue slowly, Dean's hand still gripping Cas' waist, kiss a sweet drop of honey melting from their lips as Castiel's hand finds its way from Dean's cheek to his jaw, then his neck and his collarbone, lingering in each place, learning what Dean feels like, exploring every nook and cranny of Dean's body. It trails down Dean's chest and then his abdomen, still clad in the grey cotton of his ACDC shirt, and then, very carefully, very gingerly, Cas slides his fingers beneath the fabric and pushes up.

Dean gasps at the new contact, Cas' hand winding a path relentlessly upward and coming to rest on Dean's bare chest. He arches into the touch moans into the angel's mouth, the sound echoed a moment later when Dean's hand comes around to the waistline of Cas' damn work pants.

He finally pulls away, forehead still hanging against the angel's and breaths pushing out harder than Dean thought possible.

"Always wearing these stupid pants, Cas," Dean mumbles, fingers fiddling with the belt buckle and then pulling the charcoal leather through the black loops. "Wanna see you in some jeans at least once," he adds, breathing out a short laugh, smile growing. His eyes meet Cas', searching and dazed, wonderment and unacknowledged love prominent in both their blown pupils. "My God, you're beautiful."

It slips from his throat without him meaning for it to; the words just open a door at the back of his tongue and sneak out in a hushed whisper and Dean would yell at the words, but secretly he's proud that they made it.

Cas seems to lose his breath for a second, and his kiss-swollen lips part further and his eyebrows pull in. He looks so innocently surprised, so heartbroken and grateful, and Dean thinks it's the best expression he's ever worn. And Cas shakes his head and his lips meet Dean's again, and his hand runs back down to Dean's jeans and somehow undo the button and unzip the zipper without any difficulty and Dean wonders, fleetingly, how Cas could possibly be able to do it that quickly, as he wrestles the jeans down over his legs.

He doesn't dote on it though, and the thought sifts through the crack in the window of his mind and evaporates in the thin air of his bedroom. He simply kisses Cas harder and pushes his hips down into Cas', pleased to find the angel's erection hasn't faded.

Dean pulls away, hand slipping from Cas', who makes a whining sound which Dean tries very hard to ignore, and whips his shirt off in an easy, practised motion, hips grinding down the entire time, and Cas stares up at him, into his moss green eyes, the angel's own blue ones never wandering from Dean's face. Not even with his stomach exposed.

"I think it's only fair that I tell you how beautiful you are too," Cas whispers and Dean's heart pounds and then stops and then starts back up even faster than before. Cas' hand, now free from Dean's, slides up to Dean's neck and he pulls Dean down, fingers tangled in the human's hair, into a wanton kiss, tongue wrestling and short, stuttering moans included.

When Dean comes up for air, he raises his eyebrows and breathes out a laugh.

"Where did that come from, Cas--"

"I don't...I don't know. I just...God, Dean, I want you. I just really want you," Cas keeps shaking his head, eyes not opening, apparently insatiable hunger for Dean's lips on his taking over. "I just really fucking want you so please shut up and kiss me again."

Dean actually laughs this time, a low, dark rumble emanating from deep in his chest, and he launches forward again, reattaching their lips. He rolls his hips once more and then lifts them so he can undo his angel's work slacks. He fumbles with the button and then the zipper and then slowly, very slowly, he hooks his thumbs beneath the waistline and shimmies them down over Cas' legs, making absolutely sure that his thumbs brush innocently over the junction of Cas thighs and groin and to enjoy the little gasp this pulls from his angel's lips.

Dean whips the slacks off, somehow tugging off Cas's shoes in the process, and climbs back up to hover over him. His hips slide against Cas' with the motion and so does his throbbing cock, still separated from the angel's by two layers of cotton fabric that he plans to remove as soon as possible.

Dean slides their erections together, friction on the fabric a slightly painful pleasure, hands clinging to Cas' waist, and he bends down to wrap his lips in Cas's again, insistent tongue finding its way into Castiel's mouth.

Dean has wanted this for years and now that he has it, now that he has Cas, now that he knows Cas wants this too, he doesn't know whether he wants to slow it down and cherish it, or get to the best part right away.

He decides the latter is good for now, despite the fact that Cas is probably a virgin. Well, Dean doesn't know about his vessel, whether Jimmy ever got his freak on with guys, but Dean knows for sure that Cas hasn't fooled around with a dude before. Dean wonders, not for the first time, whether Cas even _is_ a guy, or whether he prefers any gender at all but let's it go when he hears said angel whimpering below him and feels stubby nails digging into his upper back.

"Please," Cas gasps against Dean's ear, and a shiver slams up Dean's spine, and he lets out a harsh breath, hips still rolling, before attaching their lips again.

Newly groomed wings lift upward and fall in a cascading curl across Dean's back and he remembers how much Cas enjoyed the feeling of the hunter's hands in his wings. He pulls away and sits up, tugging at Cas' waist to make him sit up too, and when the angel does, Dean scoots in so close that their chests and crotches are flush, sliding together and sticky with sweat.

He cranes his neck now that he's sitting on top of Cas again, so much taller than the soldier, and dips his tongue into Cas' mouth, exploring the bumps of his white teeth, and letting his hands wander; they start at his hips, tapping out a beat-less tune, then they're on his waist, thumbs tracing slow circles on ribs, then his shoulders, gripping harder than Dean meant, and then draped across the crooks on either side of Cas' neck, where it meets the tops of his shoulders, and his hands lock together behind Cas' head.

He bends his arms carefully, unravels his fingers, and finds where Cas' wings meet his back, and then brushes through the softest feathers he's ever felt, softer even, somehow, than those on the rest of his wings - like a chick or a baby raven.

Beneath Dean, Cas' breath hitches and he detaches their lips to arch into Dean's touch, head falling back, hanging limply from his neck as his eyes rolls up to the ceiling, a gasping moan escaping his tight throat. His hips buck up into Dean's and when Dean pulls his fingers away, Cas collapses in a shaking mess, breaths trembling and strained, head slumping against Dean's shoulder.

"Holy fuck," Dean whispers, chuckling against the side of Cas' head. "Holy fuck, Cas." "I don't...I don't think holy...is the right word, Dean," Cas manages between gulps of air and Dean raises a sceptical brow, lips lifting in a smirk.

Wings pull in tight around him, trapping him against Cas with surprising strength and he pulls a hand into the onyx sphere and lets his fingers tangle in a few feathers, smirking even more when this elicits another choked gasp.

"Then what... _exactly_ ," he administers another tug as he puts the emphasis on that word, and leans down, lips dragging against Cas' jaw, the angel's head tilting to allow Dean more access as he continues, "is the right word, angel."

"I think unholy would be more suitable--"

"Then I..." Dean begins, just a breath next to Cas' ear as his hand slips beneath the waistband of Cas' boxer briefs and finds his heavy heat, "want to do some rather unholy things."

"Fuck," Cas gasps again, and his teeth chomp down on his lower lip, which trembles with Dean's words.

Dean's hand cups Cas' length and strokes upward once before pulling out, tease that he likes to be, and reaches back to lift Cas' hips. He slips the boxers off, and throws them over Cas' shoulder, as his own shoulders are trapped by giant black wings, and the reaches down to slip his own briefs off before realising he can't exactly lift up. Cas immediately raises a hand and snaps, and Dean's erection is suddenly pressing against the angel's without anything between them and both their eyes widen in unequivocal pleasure and utter disbelief.

Dean groans, deep and gravelly, and his hips start moving again, and their breaths mix in a tantalising heat as their cocks slip together, sticky without lube. Dean knows this, knows it from secret nights with other guys that he's never told anyone about, that he'd never let Sammy find out about. But he knows and so he reaches down and swipes the pre-come from both their tips and spreads it down over them, both thick members pressing tight in the circle of his hand.

Dean may know, from other experiences with other men, but damn, was he shocked when he felt Cas against him. It's a whole new level of ecstasy-ridden skin on skin and Dean's not sure whether it's because of Cas' angelic nature, and maybe that's why it feels so much better, or because all those other guys were just a distraction from Cas, from his feelings toward the angel, because Cas is the one he's always wanted.

Either way, he's enjoying it to an obnoxious extent, way more than he should, and he entirely couldn't care less.

He strokes up and at the same time reaches over Cas' shoulder and brushes his fingers roughly through those downy feathers connected to the skin.

Cas nearly screams, face contorting with a lot of pleasure and a very small amount of pain, and Dean breathes out against his jaw. His hand continues its winding dance through the feathers where those damn beautiful wings meet that damn muscular back and the wings - they squeeze tighter and tighter around Dean's back until he can't even thrust up into his hand anymore, much less move said hand at all, as it's become trapped between them. So he resorts to letting out strangled groans along the corner of Cas' jaw as he ruts against the angel, thrusts short and shaking to match Cas'.

The angel's back keeps pushing back into Dean's fingers, which pull and brush and twirl through the field of feathers, and their hips move together in perfect synchrony and Dean's lips fall hot and wet against Castiel's jaw, and they're moaning and grunting and--

" _Dean_!" Cas' strangled cry reaches Dean's ears as he comes over both their stomachs and his head falls back and his chest heaves against Dean's, whose eyes follow the column of Cas' neck and whose teeth graze over it.

"Fuck," Dean grunts and fucks into his hand once more and he's coming too, Cas' name dripping more slowly from his lips in a low groan, a rumble from deep in chest, almost primal. " _Fuck_ , Cas. _Jesus fuck_."

They breathe hard into eachother's mouths, tongues finding excited solace in eachother again, Cas's wings still strung tight around Dean.

Cas falls backward onto the bed, and, because his wings are still locked around Dean, so does the hunter, and Dean's shorter than Cas now, so he tucks his head up beneath Cas's chin and lets his arms get bent and squished between their chests. His legs still straddle Cas' thighs and he's grateful that Cas' wings are huge enough to curtain his spread out ass.

He can feel the feather tips skimming across the balls of his feet and realises that if Sam were to walk in, all he'd see is a circle of wings, a pair of legs, and ten toes peeking out from under the black beauties.

"That...that was...well, fuck, Cas," Dean laughs. One of his trapped hands traces angel sigils that he's memorised on Castiel's bare chest and his eyelids wander down over his green eyes, exhausted. "Shit."

"That was highly enjoyable," Cas agrees and Dean chuckles at the man's speech patterns, still so formal in contrast to all the things he just said.

"I guess, you could say that was--"

"Dean, don't you d--"

"--heavenly," Dean smiles, opened mouthed, his eyebrows raising.

Cas huffs and sets his jaw.

"Dean." He sounds exasperated, but Dean knows he's not.

He laughs, hair scraping Cas' chin, and nuzzles his face into the angel's neck.

A wing stutters against his back when his lips push out and brush the hollow of Cas' neck, and he grins proudly.

He could get used to this.

~~~

Sam doesn't really want to know what happened, he doesn't want to know why Cas isn't in his own room, he _doesn't_  want to know why they left in such a hurry when the youngest man saw them in the library, he _doesn't_  want to know why he heard some rather detestable sounds emanating from Dean's room last night, and he most certainly _doesn't_ want to know who they came from.

What he _does_  want to know is _why the fuck he's able to see Cas's wings_.

He doesn't even knock before shoving open the door to Dean's room, because a moose on a mission is not deterred by some moaning.

And now what he wants to know, as he takes a step into the room and stops dead in his tracks, is why aforementioned wings are wound tight around two pairs of legs - hairy legs, both very obviously men's legs, and why one of the pairs is Dean's.

He raises his eyebrows as it all comes together and lets out a chortled laugh, shaking his head.

"I can't believe it," he whispers which, unfortunately, alerts Cas - who's an angel, so obviously he wouldn't have been sleeping - of the younger Winchester's presence.

The angel uncurls and lowers one wing, only enough for Sam to be able to see his face and bare chest, where Dean's sleeping head rests.

"Um..."

"It's okay, Cas," Sam laughs again, not even startled by the implications. "Kinda expected it. Surprised this didn't happen earlier, actually."

"The wings or the sex," Cas asks without missing a beat and Sam looks away, suppressing a snort.

"Uh...that last part. I wasn't actually expecting the wings," Sam mutters and glances back at his - probably naked, he realises - best friend. "By the way, I'd like an explanation. The...wings, not the sex. Later," he adds and cocks a brow, "when you're not...busy..."

Cas stares for a moment and then his shaking lips turn up into a grin and he chuckles, nodding.

"You've got it," Cas says and Sam smiles back, and, with one last lingering glance at his big brother, he steps out of the room, catching a glimpse of Cas pulling his wing back up over Dean's soft face.

Sam pauses outside the door, furrowing his brows at the ground, then shrugging, eyebrows raising again, and his lips turning up into another smile.

Dean deserves a happy ending, after all.

God knows Sam didn't get his.

**Author's Note:**

> this started out as an angry drabble because every wink!kink fic I've ever read has described the wings as these teeny things, if I'm reading American standard measurements correctly. Like, they all just seemed so small in description, so I went and started this rather indignantly and then it turned into a whole smut-fluff thing so. Sorry. Lol


End file.
